


A Rare Feast

by tres_mechante



Series: Look But Don't Touch [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, Dom/sub, F/M, Food Play (eating off partner's body), Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-13
Updated: 2011-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-18 00:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tres_mechante/pseuds/tres_mechante
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Abby said dinner was on Tony, Gibbs never expected <i>this</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rare Feast

**Author's Note:**

> I read an article about "nyotaimori" and my imagination conjured this picture. Also, I like tormenting Gibbs; he's way too controlled for his own good. Originally written for Rounds of Kink August 2010.

Gibbs slowed the car, carefully checking the written directions as he looked for the right address. If it had been anyone other than Abby, he would not be doing this. He parked in front of a restaurant – a closed restaurant by the looks of it – and looked around.

This had better be good, or Abby was going to get an earful, not to mention no CafPow for a month.

He went up to the door and rang the bell.

A voice immediately came through the intercom. “We’re closed for a private party.”

“I’m expected. Name’s Gibbs.”

“What is the name of your table?”

“DiNozzo.”

The door opened almost immediately and an elegant woman in her fifties or sixties ushered him in. “Welcome, Mr. Gibbs. Your table is almost ready. Mistress Abigail is in the lounge; please follow me.”

Gibbs raised his eyebrows at the name ‘Mistress Abigail’ but otherwise made no comment. As they walked, he checked out the restaurant, which had an old-world feel, a definite sense of formality. He automatically reached up to adjust his tie and straighten his jacket. This was definitely not a place he would ever have associated with Abby – or Tony, for that matter.

His escort showed him to the lounge and left him without a word, but did bow slightly toward Abby.

“Abbs.”

“Hey Gibbs.”

“Want to tell me what’s going on? And where’s DiNozzo? I thought this was his party.”

Abby handed him a glass of bourbon and patted the seat beside her. He sipped his drink, surprised at the quality of alcohol in the glass.

“It’s _our_ party, actually, and we wanted to include you – kind of a thank you for not making a fuss about me and Tony and, you know, the whole dominant-submissive lifestyle thing.”

Gibbs lifted his glass. “A bottle of this would have done just fine.”

“No, Gibbs, it wouldn’t. See, the thing is I’ve seen you looking – we both have.”

Gibbs choked on his drink.

“Gibbs! Are you okay?” Abby began pounding on his back.

“Enough, Abby, I’m okay,” he said, coughing a bit to clear his throat. “What-”

“Don’t even _think_ about lying to me, Gibbs. I’ve seen the way you watch him. After that bomb thing, when you found out about us, you started getting this-this really hungry look when you thought no one was looking.”

“Well, if no one was looking--”

“That’s what security feeds are for,” countered Abby. “I wasn’t looking for it, but it was pretty obvious. And once I noticed that you were noticing, and Tony noticed you were noticing, well, that’s when I knew it was time to do something. I mean, I waited a long time to see if it was just curiosity or, you know, something else. It’s been almost three months, Gibbs, and you’re still looking. This is definitely something else.”

Gibbs thought about denying her words, but could not bring himself to lie to her. He also thought about saying nothing and just getting up and leaving, but then he’d have to face her at work. He shuddered at the prospect of dealing with a thwarted Abby.

A distraction was in order.

“This isn’t your usual kind of hangout,” he said.

Abby laughed. “No, it really isn’t. But Tony knows a guy who knows someone who runs the place who was willing to host the dinner.” She bounced in her seat. “We were _so_ lucky to get in. But when you said you’d accept the invite that just made everything better!”

Gibbs looked around. “So where is Tony?”

Before Abby could answer, the woman who’d greeted Gibbs came in. “Your table is ready, Mistress.”

“Thank you, Vanessa.” Abby set her glass down and hopped off the stool. It wasn’t until she had started walking toward the door that Gibbs realized her clothes were radically different than anything he’d seen her in before. The formal gown was black, of course, but also classical in style. It would not have been out of place at a 1940s Hollywood party, and it suited Abby amazingly well.

They entered a secluded area off the main dining room and came to a stop before an ornately carved oak door. Abby turned to Gibbs.

“Okay, Gibbs, now this is really really important, so you have to listen, okay? There are, well, rules you have to follow.”

“Rules.”

“Right. This is actually a formal kind of thing, so there’s etiquette involved.”

“I’ve been to formal dinners before, Abbs. I think I know how to behave.”

“No, Gibbs, you really don’t.” Abby made a few false starts before continuing. “Okay. The most common form is called nyotaimori, which means something like ‘female body presentation’. What we are having tonight is nantaimori – that’s male body presentation.”

Gibbs started to have an uncomfortable feeling about where this was going.

“Normally, it would be all sushi, but Tony reminded me you’re not really a sushi kind of guy, so we modified the menu, but the presentation is the same.”

Gibbs knew he didn’t want to know the answer, but still heard himself ask. “Abby, where’s Tony?”

Abby glanced at the door then back at Gibbs. “You do not touch what is under the food – only the food itself. You can use chopsticks or your fingers, but not the-the _object_ on which the food is presented.”

“Where is Tony?”

“It’s just you and me, Gibbs. We’ll talk about whatever you want – I’ll answer your questions as best I can but _Tony_ isn’t here. Do you understand me? _Tony_ isn’t here.” Abby grabbed his arm. “Please, please don’t ruin this, Gibbs. We want you here, but just...just don’t let your preconceived ideas get in the way. Ask questions, but...”

As confused as he was, Gibbs could see how important this was to her. “I’ll behave Abby.” At her smile, he added, “and if I have questions-”

“I’ll do my best to answer – as long as it’s not too personal. Deal?”

“Deal.”

At Abby’s nod, Vanessa opened the door and ushered them in before leaving with another odd half bow to Abby.

The room was probably as beautifully done as the other rooms had been, but Gibbs didn’t notice. His attention was focused on the feast laid out in the centre of the small room.

The promised sushi was artfully arranged along with slivers beef, vegetables and even grapes and strawberries – every morsel of food a delicacy in and of itself. Dipping sauces sat in small strategically placed bowls, but had also been painted in decorative swirls on the...table? The entire presentation was nothing short of stunning.

When Abby had invited him to join them, she’d told him dinner would be on Tony. He never dreamed she meant it literally.

Abby smacked him on the arm as she walked past him toward the buffet. “Don’t just stand there – eat up. This was prepared in your honor, you know.”

In a daze, he complied.

 

Carefully, mindful of Abby’s warning not to touch Tony, Gibbs delicately picked up his food. The beef – Kobe, according to Abby – all but melted in his mouth. In fact all the food was well prepared, but Gibbs’ attention was elsewhere.

He could not keep his eyes, or his mind off Tony. The man was totally relaxed, seemingly oblivious to what was going on around him. Gibbs was fascinated by the sight of blunt callused fingers plucking small delicacies off the smooth muscles. His fingertips itched to brush against the warm skin. Abby used chopsticks to grasp sushi rolls and drag the morsels through the rivulets of sauces decorating Tony’s chest.

“Perfect isn’t he?”

Gibbs jerked his gaze to Abby. “What?”

Abby smiled and looked over the food selection. “This is his gift to me,” she said.

“What? Being treated like an object?” asked Gibbs, his tone rougher than he’d intended.

“His submission, Gibbs. That’s his gift to me.” She giggled. “It’s not all that different than what he gives you – well, maybe more naked with me than with you.”

Gibbs had no reply to that – hadn’t even heard it clearly. He mesmerized as he watched her hand drift down Tony’s chest to pluck a strawberry from its resting place and dip it in the whipped cream surrounding Tony’s navel. Gibbs didn’t have the nerve to do that; his hands shook too much at the thought of his fingers being so close to his senior agent’s groin.

He knew he asked questions, got answers, even shared a few jokes, but for the life of him he could not clearly remember any of it.

In Abby-speak, he was freaking out.

Abby’s expression was sympathetic when she looked at him. “You really _don’t_ get it, do you?” She bit into the strawberry and laughed suddenly. “It’s all about trust, Gibbs. He does as I ask because it pleases me, and he trusts me to look after him. He knows I would rather trash my entire lab, turn my back on forensics – on science itself - than do anything to hurt him, body, mind or soul.”

Nimble fingers delicately grasped another strawberry and dipped it in chocolate sauce from a small bowl. She reached across Tony and held it up for Gibbs to bite. He obediently opened his mouth and bit into the succulent fruit.

“He is so responsive, Gibbs,” she sighed. “And stubborn. Sometimes it takes a while to get him where he needs to be, but it’s always worth it.”

Gibbs felt like a voyeur when he saw the gentle, possessive, _caring_ look Abby cast over Tony. But that was nothing compared to the unsettled feeling in his gut at the way Tony had shown zero reaction to anything that had been said or done. He started to wonder if perhaps his agent – his friend – had been drugged.

“No drugs, Gibbs; just his will power.” She smirked. “Your face is easy to read when you’re freaked out. And it was a logical conclusion since you don’t get to see him still very often.”

Gibbs opened his mouth, only to be cut off by Abby.

“Rule number six, Bossman,” she said, wiping her fingers on a linen napkin. “It’s getting late; we should call it a night.”

No sooner had Abby spoken than Vanessa opened the door and gestured for him to follow.

“We’ll talk some more,” she promised. “And, if you want, you can talk to Tony about this, too. You can share beer and grunt at each other and do other traditional male bonding rituals.”

Gibbs bit back a chuckle; it wouldn’t do to encourage her impertinence. “Goodnight, Abby,” he said, dropping a kiss on her cheek as he passed by.

He left without looking back, knowing he had a long night, lots of thinking and bottle of bourbon waiting for him.

It had been, without question, the most surreal experience of his life. But damned if he knew what it all meant.

 

\---END---

**Author's Note:**

> Gibbs Rule #6 -- Never say you're sorry. It's a sign of weakness.
> 
> This is part of an occasional series involving of Domme!Abby, sub!Tony and reluctant voyeur!Gibbs.


End file.
